7 days of Jerlita
by gummibar
Summary: Okay, I'm actually going to finish this set this time. 7 days of Jerlita ficlets and drabbles for Tumblr's very special Jerlita week.
1. Early Mornings

Jeremie didn't need an alarm clock to wake up. Years and years of three A.M. trips to the factory and all-nighters in front of the computer left him to be quite the light sleeper. All it took was the first few chirps of early morning birds to pull him out of his slumber; to slowly drag him upright in bed and rub his weary eyes. The sun hadn't even risen yet, the sky was as dark as it had been when he first laid down. But it didn't bother him, waking up so early. It let him get an early start to his day, gave him more time to be productive. And if he woke up _before _sunrise, it meant that he could _watch _it rise; roll over in bed and gaze out the window until the sky started blending into oranges and purples.

But those weren't the only reasons he was glad to start his day so early. There was another reason, too. And was because with as early as he woke, there was someone else who _always _slept in. Oddly enough, watching the sunrise and sunset was _her _thing—he wondered how she could sleep past it, he remembered how ecstatic it made her so many years ago. But it didn't bother him. He loved to sit up in bed and glance to the side, seeing her perfect figure still curled up. Sometimes her arm would be drawn across his chest, and he'd have to slowly rise up and be sure not to disturb her too much. Sometimes, he'd wake up and find himself nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. (And on countless occasions, he'd woken up and actually found himself _on _the floor). Then there were other times when she had tightly curled up into this cute little ball, and he'd rub the back of his neck and smile, listening to the sound of her light breathing. Watching her chest slowly rise and fall, watching the way the early morning sun shone down on her wavy locks of pink hair—she always had the most interesting bed head. Her shadow, casting across his lap. She always _radiated _with pure beauty at this time of day—not that she was never any less beautiful. It was something that left him in awe; it was the _real _reason he loved waking up early.

Because he loved waking up before her. He loved being able to rest his hand against her luscious hair, ruffle it lightly and beam down at her. Being able to graze his fingers against her neck and shoulders; being able to see her in such peace, being able to see her so _content, _when far too many times she was stressed or worried, or dwelling. This was the way he loved to see her most. And just before he'd slide out of bed and start his own day, he'd lean against her ear and softly kiss her jawline before whispering, "good morning."


	2. Teacher

Aelita's first day on Earth left her with scabs and bruises on every joint of her tiny body. It was hectic, trying to keep her on her feet. The blinding sun and clash of city noise left a ringing in her ears and a constant twitch in her chest when she stumbled over and landed on her wrists. Yumi had bought a notepad and tallied up each time she fell. Jeremie started carrying around a first-aid kit.

The next day was spent trying to get her out of bed. It took an hour of slamming pillows against her head, yanking the covers out from underneath her and tugging on her limbs; trying to drag her off of the mattress. And even then, she only curled up into an even tighter ball and let out a soft whine. It took a few kicks to get her to sit up, her and Yumi both arriving late to school. For the rest of the day Jeremie was in charge of making sure she didn't fall asleep in class. Surely enough, sitting on the bench between classes, first glance to the left caught glimpse of her head leaning against his shoulder, and he didn't quite have the heart to keep disturbing her.

Then she unearthed hunger. A discomforting feeling of emptiness in her abdomen, along with a strange growl that struck fear inside of her. For a moment, she thought she had a monster brewing in her tummy, and cried out to Jeremie that she thought she was going to die. It was something the others had managed to only laugh at, and the entire rest of the week was spent with the blonde tugging her around town, taking her to every café Odd had recommended. It was a wonder she didn't explode, because she wanted to keep eating even when her body couldn't hold any more food. Jeremie had to make very clear to her that she had to avoid what he'd described as over-eating. She merely blinked in response, asked when dinnertime at Kadic was.

He laughed. She was difficult to get through to.

Then she started discovering different emotions. Sadness, anger, _rage_ and happiness. Of course, joy was her most common trait. She was so excited about everything, overwhelmed with all the sights and sounds and senses that Earth had to bring. The air to breathe, the foods to eat and flowers to smell. There was hardly anything to put her in a bad mood.

But then Ulrich bumped into her at breakfast, spilling her glass of milk down the front of her dress. Without really thinking, she just snapped at him. He took a step back in defense, running towards Odd and cowering behind him—a personal shield, they'd all become for one another, because quickly enough Aelita was discovering what anger felt like.

She realized what sadness meant, too, when the visions started happening and the nightmares started tormenting her. Around her friends she felt happy and whole during the day, but by the time the sun had set she always felt a piece of her was missing.

That was when Jeremie started leaving his door open, because he always knew that she would come crawling around at some point in the night. Sometimes to spend the night because her room would get too cold for her liking (she was still having trouble adjusting to temperatures) and she just didn't enjoy the feeling of being alone. Sometimes, just to sit and talk about whatever it was on her mind, because after a while things began to grow less exciting and more confusing. She'd become troubled with her own self, trying to figure out what certain feelings and moods meant. And Jeremie, clueless as he was, would scratch his head and try to explain as best he could why she felt the way she did—but hell, he couldn't always pinpoint his _own _emotions, so it wasn't exactly easy trying to decipher hers. But even if he didn't always know what to say, he'd always invite her into his arms and hold her as tightly as he could, showing her that actions could speak louder than words. Teaching her everything he could about what it meant to be human, about what it meant to _live. _

Yes. Jeremie was her personal teacher, and she didn't really think she could have possibly had a better instructor. He was kind, his words were gentle. And, he tried harder not to laugh at her when the rest of the gang did.

But then one day, Aelita's screams could be heard from the end of the hall. She burst into Jeremie's room, shrieking that there was blood coming from a wound she couldn't find and that she didn't want to die yet.

He said to hell with teaching for that day, and handed her over to Yumi.


	3. Nightmare

When Aelita first arrived to Earth, she discovered rather quickly that the nighttime was far more pleasing to her than the daytime. Of course both were wonderful things—especially with the sunlight, the fluttering birds and beautiful flowers that could be brought to life with such golden rays and the way the sky looked on a clear, cloudless day. The warmth as well, was a wonderful sensation. But once the sun set beyond the horizon, it brought a beautiful midnight sky with fluffy clouds that darkened along with the sky. It brought a cool breeze that brushed across the grass and her face, sending chills down her spine. And, most importantly, it brought the stars. Glorious speckles of light that sparkled amongst the entire sky. When Jeremie had explained to her that those stars were millions and millions of light years away, even she couldn't believe it. Smart as she was, space was something that truly baffled her on her first days as a human being.

Even all of those things, though, weren't what led her to thrive at night so much more than day. It was actually all about sleep. Something so simple, so seemingly boring because all one did was lie in their bed and close their eyes, but in reality was something she found most intriguing. Like a charger for a human battery, was how she saw it. And she was excited to sleep. Excited to finally know what it was like to cuddle up in a warm bed, to know the feeling of heavy eyelids when you just can't stay awake any longer. To compare the joy of sleeping in on Sundays to the disappointment of dragging yourself out of bed on school mornings.

And dreams. She was so excited to finally have dreams. Jeremie had told her about his own dreams so many times, and she couldn't wait to have some of her own. Yes, when Aelita first arrived to earth, she _knew _she preferred the night to the day, and dreaming and naps were a pastime, almost.

But that was three years ago.

Aelita does not like the night anymore, nor does she enjoy sleeping. In fact, sleep rarely comes to her now a days. It is something she dreads; something she tries to hold off for as long as her frail body possibly can until she either passes out from the sheer exhaustion or Jeremie drags her to bed himself. Funny, because it used to be the other way around. But Aelita has grown up now, and she has learned what the night really brings and that it is no longer about the glimmering stars and glowing moonlight. It's not about having sweet dreams anymore, because she can't really remember that last time she _had _a sweet dream.

It's all about the nightmares, now.

It's about burning herself out from studying and fighting against XANA, but not being able to rest and relax because the night brings nothing but terror; and sleep brings nothing but anxiety. She'll close her eyes and slide under her covers, bundling herself up like a cocoon and thinking that tonight, maybe tonight, she'll finally get an hour or two of solid sleep. But that never comes, because the next thing she sees is her mother. That'd be a good dream, would it not? Seeing the one person you crave most, the one being you miss more than anything in this world, right before your eyes; reaching out to you, crying for you, _begging _for you to come home.

But then reality hits. And Aelita wakes up in a cold sweat, her breath irregular and her heart racing. It takes her a few moments for the room to blur back into perspective, and she's stung with the excruciating disappointment that her mother is nowhere near her. _Nowhere_ to be found.

Before she even registers it, she feels the splash of salt against her lips, her tears streaming from her eyes and dripping down her chin. Some nights she gets away with only a few drops; other nights she's had enough of the torture, and she breaks into a sob that she tries so desperately but fails to control.

The night used to bring joy, wonder and beauty. The sound of crickets outside her window would lull her to sleep. But now all she hears at night is the cries of her mother and father echoing in her head, like a broken record; and the atmosphere outside brings nothing even close to wonderment.

She sits in her bed for a long moment after being thrown out of her sleep, staring at the ceiling and dazing off. Thinking about the images that just played in her head, trying to decode them and figure out what they mean, if anything at all.

Then she slides out of bed, her cold feet tip-toeing against the hardwood of the hallway. She scampers into the bathroom, splashes ice water on her face and chest; an attempt to wake herself up, to help her see straight, to calm her nerves because nights like this always leave her on edge.

Almost always, she turns on her heels and heads towards her room before pausing; wondering where it is she really wants to go. If it's _really _back to bed, where she'll be alone and shivering and surely go through this same pattern again…or if it's to the floor below, where someone stopped bothering to even close his door anymore because he'd grown just as used to this situation as Aelita.

Of course it's _always _the latter—because what's the point in going back to a bed that brings you no sleep?

On the average night, Jeremie turns around in his chair when he hears the sound of light footsteps sneaking down the hall. He's usually already standing before she can even bother knocking, and all she has to do is mutter two simple words.

"Bad dream," she whispers, her lips puckering into a frown. Part of her is embarrassed to come to him like this; she feels needy, but at the same time doubts that it's truly something to feel _bad _for.

"Come here," he mumbles in return, and without any hesitation she takes a step forward, to which he wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly against his chest. On some nights she'll want to talk about it, but most nights she just leans against him while they stand in the center of his room, quiet tears on her cheeks and running down his shirt.

She finds that when she falls asleep in the comfort of his own embrace, his hands softly stroking her back, she usually makes it through the rest of the night without another crippling dream.

_Usually. _

Because there have also been nights where her nightmares throw her into an absolute panic attack; where they leave her so frightened and on edge she can _barely _stumble to his room, let alone see straight. Those are the worst nights. Even after Jeremie manages to calm her down, even once she's curled up against him with his arm draped around her, seemingly sound asleep, the opposite proves to be true. Only moments later is she trapped in a dream and writhing against him, her cries echoing throughout the room. Jeremie wishes he knew what to do.

He _doesn't_, though. So all he does his pull her closer to him, whispering against her ear that everything alright, that it's only a dream. Sometimes she hears him, and she fades back into her sleep. Other times she'll spring upwards, nearly knocking him off of the bed, and he has to hold her and gently rock her until she's at least _breathing _again.

It's emotionally exhausting for both of them.

But he promises, over and over again, that he will _always _be there for her—no matter _what. _Inside, she fears that she's wasting his time. That he could spend the energy he uses on her towards the fight against XANA, or more importantly, for his own sleep. At the same time, though, she always hopes that even if he's busy he'll take a moment or two to coo her back to sleep. And he always does.

Correction—he always _did. _

Then _Laura _joined the group—or, "joined," and now it seems as if Jeremie wastes all his time on her. Or perhaps it's more a matter of Laura _sucking_ his time right out of him, like a damned vampire. Aelita doesn't know—the only thing she _does _know is that every time she tiptoes down the stairs and towards his room, she always hears her voice beyond the door. And the door is always closed, now.

So when Aelita makes that late night trip to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her sweating face, she pauses in the hallway and wonders which direction she'll be taking.

Aelita always goes back to her own room, now.


	4. Looking Back

He found a photo that day. At the bottom of a cardboard box while trying to sort through his things for the new apartment. He brushed his thumb across the old photo paper to clear away the dust, the edges were peeling apart and it'd long lost its gloss. The corners were folded over, blocking out one of the faces. But in an instant he recognized himself in the image, what a tiny thing he'd been back in high school. He cringed and wondered why he had thought that clothes _that_ baggy looked_ good. _Had no one bothered to tell him otherwise? Guess that's just how wonderful his friends were. He smiled. Although truthfully, he questioned how this crumpled little photo made its way over here. Because he was _sure_, that a long time ago, he'd left any scrapbook or box of memoirs behind at the old house. Those memories were like chains, and he didn't plan on dragging them around for the rest of his life. He'd done a damn good job at shutting himself away. The finest job of anything he'd ever done. Looking at the girl on the right, doused in black, he wondered just when the last time he'd spoken to her was. Or the boy sitting in the grass, with his purple hood being tugged over his head by the brunette to his left. The blonde with the strange bun, sitting cross legged by his side but a hint of jealousy painted onto her face. The tallest man in the group, that same look on _his _face while standing next to the tallest woman in the group. And then around his own neck, there were arms draped. His mind was drawing a blank, and cautiously he folded back the edge of the photo, revealing the soft face that lied beneath. His stomach twisted into a fierce knot, upon instant his knees were shaking. But really, how could he have been so stupid to forget about _her_? Just seeing her smile—he couldn't help but grin himself. But that grin was met quickly with the salty taste of tears. Looking back now, he wished more than anything that a return to the past could have saved her. 


End file.
